so another day has come and its become an exercise, a daily exercise to jot down an entry each and every morning i'm in new york because why spend a lousy 10 minutes doing nothing when i can be just writing, even if the bloody thing don't make any sense. Who says bloody? The english or the australians? Andy milanokis was making fun of the australians yesterday. That show is funny because of it's low grade and dark sense of reality. I love it when an artist uses different ways of sensing something. Something something, something something: Note to self_ why use the word "something" when it can eliminated all together or use the word hmm i don't know any replacement words. Why doesn't this damn typepad have a spell check. Everything is coming up fucking red and i mean everything. well, the word "fucking" didn't come up red which means it's inside the computer as an actual word. Have the started putting slangs into the dictionary. If i put in the word narly or radical. i guess the word radical was an original word that had an original meaning. Let's get to some creative writing. how about this as a short poem:
let's say when
when do we cry
when do we learn to cry
when can we or are we
allowed to cry.
i can't bear the pain all by my lonesome.
let's write down messages for the president
for he will take our burden away.
oh sweet leader of mine.
When will i not cry.
when can i not cry.
and when am i allowed to not cry?
the tears i have drowned in taste like sea water.
maybe i'm just floating away into the nothingness
of the world which i can't imagine myself freeing from.
free from what, free from where? free from who? and free to do.
just about anything, anything who wants? You want me more than ever.
i can feel it in your voice, but i'm sorry, for I am too sad to love another.
I am to sad to love another person but myself. I cry and cry alone.
No one can join me for this is a lone operation. A lonely operation. everything in this world is one big empty lonely house that we think we've met somebody but they just happen to be another extension of ourselves. The stranger self. Because she in fact is a stranger. She's lived thirty years without me. will i even live for thirty more? That is the question i ask and she replies: " i am not thirty, but twenty eight." what the fuck difference does it make woman, just tell me your weight and the size of the diamond your husband bought you, those are the questions you're not suppose to ask a woman from what i've heard. Fuck all that. that is completely and utterly ludacris. Just craziness. You should have known from the start what kind of complete moron i would be or become. because anyone with you knows that you are so much smarter, so much happier, so much wiser and so much more philisophical aabout nietzche and schepenhour and kant and the marxism nonsense with your proudhons and what nots. who can count the endless volumes of britannica you have read out loud when you're trying to fall asleep. YOu only sleep because the voice of your own voice bores you. You are easily bored and easily you will leave me. That is why i sit here, crying a river. the river is now an ocean and ocean has become my bodily fluids. Trying to crash to the shore to find home. That is all we ever want to do. Find our homes.
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